Room 13 (6 page)

Her friend looked at her. ‘Don’t be silly, Fliss! It was a dream. Why would Ellie-May sit in a cupboard in the middle of the night, making funny noises? Why would anybody? And how could a door have a number on it at midnight, and none in the morning? You’re barmy.’

‘No, I’m not. What about the water on the bathroom floor?’

‘Anybody could have squirted water on the floor. People do it on purpose, don’t they?’

‘Well, what about Ellie-May, then – what d’you think’s wrong with her?’

Lisa shrugged. I dunno. I’m not a doctor, am I? Maybe she’s got food-poisoning, which we all will after these rotten sandwiches.’ She pulled a face, chewing. ‘Why – what do you think’s wrong, Doctor Morgan?’

‘I think something happened to her in that
cupboard
. I wasn’t dreaming at all. I know that now. I’m off over to talk to Trot.’

She got up and went over to where David Trotter was sitting with a group of his friends. The boys stopped talking at her approach and squinted up at her, shielding their eyes with their hands. ‘What do you want, mong-features?’ asked Gary Bazzard, through a mouthful of something pink. Fliss ignored him. ‘Can I have a word please, Trot?’

‘Trot!’ whooped Richard Varley. ‘What is she, Trot – your girlfriend or something?’

Trotter blushed. ‘Is she heck.’ He scowled up at Fliss. ‘What about?’

‘I’ll tell you over there.’ She nodded towards a vacant spot on the slope. The others laughed. ‘Watch her, Trot,’ said Bazzard, ‘she’s after you.’

The red-faced boy scrambled to his feet. ‘Come on then,’ he growled. ‘And it better be important or I’ll chuck you off the cliff.’

They moved away from the others, and Fliss told him what she’d seen and heard in the night, linking it with what he’d seen and with Ellie-May’s present condition. The boy glanced across at Ellie-May once or twice while she was speaking, and when she’d finished he nodded. ‘OK. It all fits, and she looks rough, no doubt about that. But what I don’t get is, why would she go up two
floors
and into a cupboard in the first place, and if she did, and something happened to her there – something bad – why hasn’t she told one of the teachers?’

Fliss shrugged. ‘I don’t know, Trot, but there’s something funny going on, isn’t there?’

‘Maybe. But what d’you want me to do about it?’

‘I don’t want you to do anything. Not by yourself. I’m thinking of keeping watch tonight to see if Ellie-May goes walkabout again. I think Lisa will join me. Will you?’

‘I dunno. It seems daft to me. I mean, a cupboard. I ask you – what could there be in a cupboard, Felicity?’

‘Fliss.’

‘What?’

‘Fliss. Call me Fliss.’

‘Oh, I see. What could be in a cupboard, Fliss?’

‘Who knows?’ She chuckled. ‘The point is, dare you keep watch with us and find out?’

‘How d’you mean, dare I? D’you think I’m scared or something?’

‘Could be.’

‘Well, I’m not, I can tell you that.’

‘Prove it. Watch with us.’

‘OK, if Gary can come too.’

‘How d’you know he wants to?’

‘I don’t, yet. He doesn’t know anything about it, but he’ll want to be in on it when he does. Can I tell him?’

Fliss sighed. ‘I suppose so. But get him by himself, right? We don’t want the whole flipping class stampeding around in the middle of the night, or nothing will happen at all.’

The boy smiled. ‘I don’t think it will anyway.’

‘Well, we’ll see, won’t we?’ said Fliss.

SOMEWHERE BETWEEN LUNCH
and Runswick Bay, David must have filled his friend in on the events of the night before, and on Fliss’s plan for that night. As he passed her seat on the coach, Gary bent down and whispered, ‘OK – I’m in. Talk to you later.’

Clouds rolled in after tea, threatening rain. Team games on the beach were cancelled, and everybody went to their rooms to write up the day’s activity. Each child was keeping a sort of log or diary of the visit, in which points of interest were to be recorded. Fliss wrote for a while, then got up and looked out of the window. The old woman was there watching the hotel. Fliss resolved to ask Mrs Wilkinson about her. She sat down again on her bunk, chewing the end of her pencil and reading through what she had written.

‘Tuesday. Staithes and Runswick Bay. Nothing
happened
on coach. Looked at scenery. Staithes old-fashioned and sort of dark with hills and cliffs all round. Mr Hepworth told us about the headless ghost but we didn’t see it. We didn’t see Captain Cook’s shop either because it is under the sea. Crab pots everywhere. I had an ice-lolly and Mrs Marriott took our photo.’

‘How d’you spell “excitement”?’ asked Marie from her perch on the top bunk.

‘Why – what’re you writing about?’

‘Mrs Evans. I’m putting, “There was a bit of excitement when we thought Mrs Evans had fallen off the cliff, but she’d only fallen behind, which was boring.’”

‘You’re not.’

‘I am.’

‘I wouldn’t be you, then. It’s E-X-C-I-T-E-M-E-N-T.’

‘Ta.’

Fliss knew she should write more, but she couldn’t concentrate. If Lisa and the two boys were to watch with her tonight, they’d have to get together sometime this evening and sort out details, like where they’d meet and at what time.

She listened. Beyond the door, everything seemed quiet. Nobody was on the landing or the stairs. She wondered what the teachers were doing. If they were busy, she and Lisa might be
able
to slip down to the next floor and have a quick meeting with the boys. It was strictly forbidden to visit other people’s rooms, but they’d have to risk it. She put her book and pencil on the bed and went to the door.

‘Where you going?’ asked Maureen.

‘Toilet,’ she lied, opening the door and looking out. The landing was deserted. She slipped out, closed the door and knocked on the door of room eleven.

‘Who is it?’ Samantha’s voice.

‘Fliss. Is Lisa there?’

‘Yes. Just a minute.’

Voices beyond the door. Fliss glanced towards the cupboard. No number. Door eleven opened and Lisa looked out. ‘Come on,’ whispered Fliss.

‘Where? I’m halfway through my log.’

‘Trot’s room. Make plans. Quiet.’

‘OK.’

They tiptoed down the stairs, listening for teachers. There was nobody on the landing below. Doors seven and eight were closed.

‘Which is theirs?’ hissed Lisa.

‘Seven. Watch the stairs while I knock.’

Lisa watched and listened. Fliss knocked.

‘Who’s there?’ It sounded like Gary’s voice.

‘Fliss. Open up, quick.’

Footsteps approached the door. It opened a
crack
. An eye peered out. ‘On your own, are you?’

‘Me and Lisa. Hurry up.’

The door opened. Gary and David came out. ‘Aren’t we using your room?’ Fliss asked.

‘No chance. Barry and Richard’re in there. They know nothing about this. It’ll have to be the bathroom.’

They slipped into the bathroom, and Gary pushed the door-catch into place. ‘We’ll have to make it quick,’ he whispered. ‘Somebody’s bound to want the toilet before long, and anyway I haven’t started my log yet.’

They made their plans swiftly. They would go to bed at nine as normal, and wait till their room-mates fell asleep. That should be earlier than last night because they’d had a long, tiring walk. At twenty-five past eleven exactly they’d get out of bed. They wouldn’t dress for fear of waking somebody. They would leave their rooms and meet in the top-floor bathroom, room twelve, at half-past eleven. From there they would be able to keep watch on the stair-top, landing and cupboard. It would be impossible for anyone to reach the cupboard without being seen, and if anything odd happened to the door itself, like the number thirteen suddenly appearing on it, they’d see that too.

This settled, the four split up and returned to their rooms. It wasn’t until Fliss was lying in bed at half-past nine, listening to Marie and the twins, that she realized nobody had thought about what they’d do if Ellie-May did appear. She lay, worrying about this and looking at her watch every minute or two, as her room-mates chattered on.

IT WAS NEARLY
eleven o’clock before the girls in room ten stopped talking and three of them fell asleep. Fliss lay absolutely still, listening to their breathing, and almost drifted off herself. When she realized what was happening she shook her head, blinked rapidly and looked at her watch.

Twenty-three twenty. Ten minutes to zero. Now that it was nearly time she didn’t fancy it one bit. The cold, dark landing. The door of the linen cupboard, upon which the number thirteen might at this very moment be materializing. The prospect of footfalls on the stair.

And I was the one who suggested it, she reminded herself. I must have been crazy.

Well, anyway, it was too late now. It was her plan and she was stuck with it. She squinted at her watch again. Twenty-three twenty-seven. Three minutes to zero. What she’d do was, she’d listen for the others arriving. One of the others, at least.
She
didn’t want to be the first. She knew that if she opened the door and found herself alone on the landing, just a metre or so from that creepy cupboard, she’d have the door shut and be back under the covers so quick her feet wouldn’t touch the floor.

Listen. A creak somewhere. Somewhere a tick. The house, settling. Twenty-three twenty-nine, and no footsteps. Perhaps nobody’ll turn up. Maybe they’ve fallen asleep. I nearly did. And if they have, it’s off. There’s no way I’m watching alone. No way. Please God, let them be asleep.

Zero hour, and listen – somebody’s coming. Somebody’s right outside the door, breathing. Waiting. And there – there goes a whisper, so there’s two of them at least and they’re whispering about me – asking where I am.

Asleep, that’s where I am, so leave me. Let me sleep. There’s three of you. You don’t need me. You don’t need me, do you? Do you?

Twenty-three thirty-one. Zero plus one. They’re listening at the door, and they know you’re not asleep. They can hear you breathing – looking at your watch. They can hear your heart.

My idea. My plan. My own stupid fault in other words. OK, OK. I’m coming. Here I come.

She got out of bed, tiptoed across the sandy carpet and stood with her ear to the door, listening to
the
sounds of stealthy movement beyond. Behind her, the three girls slept on. She twisted the knob and eased the door open. It squeaked, and somebody outside went, ‘Sssh!’ She looked across. Three pale figures were watching her from the bathroom doorway.

‘Where the heck have you been?’ hissed Lisa, as Fliss joined them. ‘We’ve been here ages.’

‘Sorry. I think I must have dropped off to sleep. Is anything happening?’

She looked towards the cupboard but there was no number. Trot shook his head. ‘Nothing yet. Look, let’s get inside and close the door except for a crack to look through. And no more talking, right?’

They stood on the cold plastic tiles, peering over one another’s shoulders. The rain which had threatened earlier was now falling. Cloud hid the moon, so that the windows on the half-landings gave almost no light. Fliss shivered, wishing she had her dressing-gown and slippers, or better still, that she was where they were, in her bedroom at home.